Lightning gathered in a vast javelin and flamed down upon them. Jill flinched and caught her breath. The flame hissed along the hull and vanished into seared and blackened rock.
"Still willing to die for principle?" asked Gray brutally.
She glared at him. "Yes," she snapped. "But I hate having to die in your company!"
She looked down at the valley. Lightning struck with monotonous regularity on the hull, but the valley was untouched. Jill smiled, though her face was white, her body rigid with waiting.
It was the smile that did it. Gray looked at her, her tousled black curls, the lithe young curves of throat and breast. He leaned back in his seat, scowling out at the storm.
"Relax," he said. "You aren't going to die."
She turned on him, not daring to speak. He went on, slowly.
"The only chance you took was in the landing. We're acting as lightning rod for the whole valley, being the highest and best conductor. But, as a man named Faraday proved, the charge resides on the surface of the conductor. We're perfectly safe."
"How dared you!" she whispered.
He faced her, almost angrily.